


A Violent Temptation

by booktick



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Local Man Rethinks Friendship, Other, Sad Man Gets Sadder, bill likes to blame joel a lot ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: "Yeah sure, Joel, go ahead, take my car! Take all my food too, while you're at it!"It wasn't like he had plans to actually use the truck himself. That would be a stupid mistake. A mistake that had one ending to it and he sure as hell wasn't gonna be some hunter's target practice.





	A Violent Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.
> 
> A/N: A fun, lighthearted, post-Bill's Town fic with Bill himself. Ain't he a hoot?

* * *

"Yeah sure, Joel, go ahead, take my car! Take all my food too, while you're at it!" 

It'd been a statement made from the heaviest of sarcasm. Yet there he was, sat at his church, a rough pant of breaths following each slick of sweat that went down his back and neck and wherever else it could get. Bill ran his battered fingers through his hair before he shook his head. His boot kicked a bucket over, soap fell out of it onto the floor. Even his feet hated Joel.

"Comin' to my town. Owin' him a favor my foot." He grumbled. 

Joel and the kid had been gone for a few hours already. He was sure. The sun had set already but it wasn't that dark out. He could still see the school from the window. He had somehow made his way back to the Church without any further damage.

The clouds had been shades of purple and grey, to match his bruises probably. It'd rain, that'd make it harder to patrol tomorrow. Joel was probably laughing it up, driving and without a care in the world. Just a simple drop off, Joel told him on the ride back. That had his suspicions only increase to the tilt but he hadn't pushed his luck with it.

It wasn't as if he cared much to begin with on why Joel had the kid with him. As for Tess' absence, some things just didn't line up. Joel had been far too snippy and short to make him believe it was just trouble in paradise. Joel hadn't even chuckled at his joke about it, the ass. He'd have to be careful next time, no more personal questions with smugglers. But what other smugglers did Bill know anyway? 

Fuck, he was exhausted. 

The weight behind his eyes tugged. For a moment Bill was tempted to fall asleep sitting in a chair but that wouldn't do. So he grunted and shook the cobwebs from his mind. His palms rubbed at his eyes until it burned. He pulled his hands away, blinked away the lingering shadows best he could. He sniffled and shook his head once more.

"Fuckin' Joel." Bill mumbled.

Joel came in and wrecked his shit. Joel wrecked it to hell and back then had the gall to ask for a favor. A debt that needed to paid, Joel must have lost his goddamn senses. He nearly got his head caved in by--what the hell did the kid call it? A blister? Bloater! Whatever the fuck that meant.

"What kind of name is bloater? Infected are infected." Bill huffed, not like the kid would be there to sass back.

He rubbed his legs afterwards, tried to get them to not fall asleep, not that he was doing well on not falling asleep himself. And shit, his legs burned from all the running he'd done. The last time he had to run that much Fra...Frank had dissappeared. He had let his emotions, his  _fear_ get the better of him. Bill didn't do well with change. Panic was at his hip and dread stuck to him like glue in those moments.

And Frank's letter... _shit._

That sort of shit caused bites, that caused death and he sure as hell wasn't dying for Joel. He would have dropped them both if he knew they'd just give up and leave his town. He would have probably booked it out as soon as the pipsqueak said he owed Joel. What a fuckin' joke that was, he tells himself he should have told Joel that Joel had it wrong. It was _him_ whom had just  _saved_ Joel's ass as well as that klepto, wannabe Bobby Fischer that came as an addition to the shitfest of the day.

Yeah, Bill would have hauled ass back to the Church after Frank too, if it hadn't been for the reminder Joel could smash his face and cave his head in within a minute  _and_ with only hands. He couldn't play chess with his head caved in and, well, he'd probably be dead because...Joel.

His day had been fine. By afternoon, he had no sign of Tess and had some snotnosed teenager touching all of his shit. Joel even let her to an extent, that was some real bullshit. He already noticed a magazine was missing from the pile. Grubby little gremlin that kid was.  

It wasn't like he had plans to actually use any the truck himself. That would be a stupid mistake. A mistake that had one ending to it and he sure as hell wasn't gonna be some hunter's target practice. Not him, no fuckin' way. Welcome to join them his ass.

But Joel wanted a car that Joel must have thought he could just pull out of his ass on command. So fuck it, right? Fuck the rules and fuck Joel and fuck Tess for not being there to knock some sense into tall and plaid and his cabbage patch hellion. Being square didn't mean much at all. Bill knew for a fact Joel could easily come crawling back for scraps anytime Joel felt like it. He'd have to put up more signs. Joel could read, with those judgemental sockets of his.

But that'd be far off from now. Bill could sit, if just for the night, and take a breather. Each breath came out rattled, him clearing his throat didn't help it at all. His hand swiped his mouth, wiped away the blood and slobber. A runner had managed to slug him once or twice earlier. 

"I'm fine." Bill murmured, mostly to himself. 

It wasn't like clickers were going answer him back.

He was just fine in this town. He knew where it was safe, where there needed to be barricades. He didn't see Joel doing any hard work, all Joel did was ruin his day. At least the kid knew how to pop a clutch, kid was a better driver than most teenagers he remembered. Not that he really remember the last time he'd seen a teenager drive. His mind tugged at the question on how the kid knew but he shoved that right back where it came from. 

Bill pressed his hands to his knees as he forced himself to stand. His back stung from the action, a jolt of pain shot through his legs soon after. He stretched best he could, heard the soft cracks and pops that followed that too. With a groan, he huffed back to his bedroom. The mattress remained, much like himself, a mess. But that didn't stop Bill from falling down on it with a grunt or two.

The mattress lowered some as he shifted to get as comfortable as he could. His eyelids remained partially open, didn't dare to shut in this moment. His breathing still rattled but wasn't as loud as before. He swallowed hard, bile threatened his throat and he swallowed that too. He could heave later, if he was lucky enough to make it to later.

But sooner or later, luck runs out.

It's still dark out when Bill woke. His chest felt heavier and there's an occasional push at his ribs. His hand grabbed at his knife under his pillow, it slashed at the air a moment later. It's his hair in his eyes that startled him first, not the empty room itself. Bill swallowed and took another deep breath.

His legs swung over the side of the bed, boots clunk onto the floor. The knife was slid back into its' sheath before he dropped it in the open duffel bag beside the bed. He run his hand through his hair again, had to force himself not to tear the hair out. Bill gulped as he looked around. 

No one, nothing. Just him and the bed. He rubbed his chest but only felt his fingertips brush the scarf around his neck. He let his hands fall to his lap. His eyes traveled around the room, counted each item he could see thanks to the dimly lit lantern. He should toss that out, it was a hazard. 

The wood creaked as he stood, boots clunked again when he stepped towards the door. It's the howls from outside that have his heart come to a near halt. His steps did the opposite, hurried him to the window by the organ. Bill allowed himself to open the window some as he looked below to investigate. 

Grass. Stones. Burned creatures. That's all. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The whisper in the back his head tells him he should have gone with them. He should have abandoned ship as soon as that big ass infected showed up and all the woodwork decided they needed to crawl out from under the gravel. He couldn't fight off that many, didn't have enough time or resources. He doubted Joel or Tess would be available for trade or smuggling anytime soon. He wasn't about to go work with  _strangers._

Bill found himself staring at the stone walls though. He'd need to put up wire on those walls. He couldn't risk that--no, the sounds. He scanned the area best he could from where he stood. Bill focused and found nothing but what he had moments ago. There aren't any stumbling clickers or screeching runners. The noises had been too close for comfort. He didn't like taking chances. That wasn't his style.

His fingers ran through his hair again, the thin strips of hair was wet from sweat. Bill had worked triple his usual load for a workday. He had helped Joel so much he didn't have time to check traps. He thought about if his traps could have done that. It was possible infected had gotten caught on bobwire or tripped a wire. But that would have been quick deaths or at least limited them. They couldn't have been continuous shrieks like that...could they?

Bill pulled away from the window, he tugged his scarf. His knuckles slick from the sweat aleady on them, his heated flesh didn't help matters. He grunted again, tried to clear his throat as quiet as possible. He needed to be quiet, it was important to be quiet. Quiet was good. 

"A patrol." Bill nodded to himself.

He could do a quick search. A routine look he'd do at dawn anyway, double checking was good to do. That was safe. Routine didn't have anything unexpected, there was structure. He couldn't expect Joel of all people to understand that, doubted the kid would either. No, it was right of him to stay behind. This was his town. 

Bill went back into his room, shoved a few newly developed accessories into there and even a crowbar for luck before he zipped it. He lifted the bag up off the ground with one hand, the other held a machete. He'd put it on his back later. It was just a quick search around the Church then back in to hold off until dawn, that's what he told himself. 

As he descended the stairs, there were the familiar howls with the occasional whoop. Briefly, his steps slowed as he settled on the basement floor. He walked to his workbench but kept his eyes on the cellar door. He had secured it, hell, the gate before it was lock. He had the keys. They'd have nothing to climb on to get over the fence. He'd been careful, told Joel to lock and shut it. He had double checked himself. 

His heart was thunder. The claps against his ribs made the bile rise again. Bill gulped, his mouth didn't thank him for that. He was placing the bullets in the smaller pockets when the cellar door shook. His whole body jolted, the jolt of pain numbed his fingers that time. Bill shook his hands quickly, tried to keep them at work.

Shit, shit. _Shit, Joel!_

Everything inside Bill flooded. His eyes widened and he tried to figure out what to do. The calculations in his head were fried. He grabbed a book of all things before he rushed the stairs. Behind him, the bangs grew from behind the cellar door. He huffed and puffed to his room, bad--this was a bad place to be. He'd be cornered. Fucking Joel.

He dropped the duffel bag before he dropped the book in his once forgotten backpack against the wall. He shoved the knife from under his pillow in there. No time, move, _move_.

" _Fucking move, Bill!_ " He hissed under his breath. 

Once he got the backpack on, the duffelbag was in his hand. He barely had time to open the window beside the organ when he heard the wails from one floor down. There was loud bangs of fallen books and cans below, and that sickening clacking some of them did. They got in, they got in--they were inside his church with him.  _Infected._

Bill jumped the window, with his soul up for grabs.


End file.
